It was eight o’clock in the evening and they were watching television in Denise’s living room. She had stopped by in the afternoon to help Denise plan a surprise birthday party for her cousin Terrance. She didn’t have to be there. She didn’t know Terrance that well, but she knew how much Denise loved her cousin and she wanted to be a good friend to her. People had always told her she was the most decent person they knew and she agreed with them. She knew most women her age still didn’t know who they were, but she didn’t have that problem. She felt proud to show people the upstanding woman she was and planning this party was just another notch on her belt.
They sat on Denise’s sofa and chatted about the details of the party. Their conversation drifted through different topics before Denise confided to her that Terrance came out to her earlier that morning. Apparently, he met someone and had fallen in love with him, but was afraid to introduce the man to his family. Denise pondered whether or not he should come out to his family at all. She said that he shouldn’t have put himself in that position to begin with.
“What do you mean?” Denise asked
Denise had this habit of pursing her lips together until they jutted out, as if they were desperately trying to bar the words that were aching to escape from them. It usually meant that she was about to give someone a piece of her mind but wanted to warn them of the pending verbal disaster she was about to bestow upon their ears. She knew this look well but it never ceased her from speaking her mind, even as Denise’s eyes narrowed in synchronicity with her mouth.
“What do you mean?” Denise asks again and sat up in attention.
“Don’t get me wrong.” she said. “It’s not like I hate the gays or anything. I have had many conversations with their type and they seem like a perfectly nice bunch of people. Don’t look at me like I’m some awful homophobic idiot.
“I’m not looking at you that way.” she said. Denise turns her attention back to the television, her eyes attentive on the screen, but void of any emotion. “I just want to know what you meant by Terrance putting himself in “that position” in the first place.”
“Well, I just don’t see why he has to make a choice like that. There are plenty of women out there who will go for him. Maybe he’s had a couple of girlfriends in the past who have cheated on him but that’s not enough of a reason to switch teams like that. I mean, it’s kind of desperate don’t you think?” She really believed this. Every time she saw a gay couple on the street, she felt a lining of pity for them surrounding her disgust. “He obviously doesn’t know who he is yet. I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you. He just needs to find a good woman who knows who she is and she will straighten him out of this little phase.”
“You mean someone like you?” Denise asked.
“Well not me specifically, but yeah, he could use me as an example of the right woman.”
“So it doesn’t matter that he has found love right now.” she stated. “When he told me about his boyfriend, I could hear it in his voice, how happy he was. This guy truly cares for him and loves him. Terrance has the same feelings for him as well. Are you saying that they don’t deserve that right to love each other?” She had the remote control in her hand and was flipping through channels so fast, the television screen had turned into a rainbow of fluorescent colors.
“Here we go” she thought. She said “It’s not just my opinion. It’s God’s opinion as well. Do you really think he put us on Earth to love our own sex? It’s not just unnatural but it’s selfish. We’re meant to reproduce and bring children into these world, not become lovers with people who have the same organs as we do!”
“Organs.” Denise had stopped flipping through stations and was now setting her TiVo to record an upcoming documentary about Harold Camping. Her eyes had hardened into glass shells and the neon lights of the television were the only visible reflections in them. “You mean like hearts?” “The same ones that pump blood just like the rest of us?”
“Yeah.” she said. “I really do mean it.” “How can they equate what they’re doing with love? It’s an abomination to the word itself.” “They obviously have a mental disorder if they actually think what they’re doing is called love.”
“Mental disorder.” said Denise. “So you think they need to be medicated or institutionalized.”
“Jesus Christ, Denise!” she retorted, frustrated with her for patronizing her words, as though she was a special needs child. “Maybe, they do, or at least go to church. It’s just not right.” She snatched the remote out of Denise’s hands and changed the channel to one of those Evangelist Christian stations where the women hid their faces under three pounds of blue eyeliner and fuchsia lipstick.
Denise leaned back against the sofa, her expression dissolved into stone. She stared at the screen, chewing hard on her bottom lip. The room shifted into a silence where everything became still. She couldn’t even hear the sound of the crystal Swarovski clock ticking above the television. “Shit!” Denise yelled, and whipped her hand over her mouth. She pulled back her fingers and peered at them. She had bit her lip with so much force it was now bleeding.
“Wait here and I’ll get some ice.” she said. “Don’t go anywhere.” She got up and went to the kitchen and looked for a plastic bag. She opened the freezer and took out four ice cubes and placed them in the bag. She took some paper towels with her and went back to Denise. She had sprawled out on the couch with her eyes closed. “Scoot over a bit so I can see the cut up close.” Denise sat up and moved to further to the right. She sat down and peered closer at the cut. The blood had formed a single, thin layer over her bottom lip. “It’s not that bad.” she commented. “You won’t feel a thing in a few hours” “Just wrap the ice in the paper towels and leave it on your lip for a while so the pain will numb.” Denise nodded, still silent and closed her eyes again. Without thinking, she leaned over and kissed her lightly on her mouth. “Just stay and here rest for a little while. I will start making the invitations.” She got up again and went to the kitchen where she left her laptop. She powered it on and was about to sit down at the kitchen counter when Denise called out to her. She retreated back to the living room and saw Denise sitting up looking at her.
“So the kiss you just gave me right now wasn’t homosexual?”
“ Oh my God, Denise, are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“ No, I’m not, I’m pretty sure I just felt your lips on mine, did I not?”
“No-I mean yes- I kissed you but it was out of concern for you. You looked like you were in pain and I just wanted to know that you were okay. Lots of friends kiss their friends on their lips and it doesn’t mean anything. I mean, it was out of love and care but not like the way you are making it out to be.”
“But if I were a lesbian, then that kiss wouldn’t have happened?”
“If you were a lesbian, then we probably wouldn’t have been friends. I already told you that. You would have your own little group of lesbian friends to…do that with.” She went back to the kitchen and sat down in front of her laptop. It felt very hot to the touch but she realized her hands wore red splotches and were moist with sweat.. Denise had followed her into the kitchen and stood in front of her.
“Pretend that I am a lesbian, and somehow, in some way, we met somewhere and we became friends.”
She glared at Denise. She looked back at her with a glint in her eyes as if she knew something about her she didin’t. “This is ridiculous. If you were a lesbian you wouldn’t be here right now. You would probably be hiding in one of those gay rights clubs where the other misfits hang out.” “You and I would never have the opportunity to meet anyway.” She felt certain of this as she spoke. Denise was already a minority being a black woman and had faced obstacles for that very fact for a long time. There was no doubt she would be more of minority if she was a lesbian. She repeated the words a second time. “You would be hiding, Denise.”
“You might have a point in your twisted logic,” she said. “But hypothetically speaking…”
She sighed. She was glad that Denise finally understood a little bit of the message she was trying to put across, but she still felt a strange pressure in the center of her chest. “Hypothetically speaking?” she echoed.
“Hypothetically speaking, I’m a lesbian, but I’m still the same Denise you’ve known for 6 years, and we meet and we become friends. Would you want to be with me- I mean really be in a relationship- with me?”
She holds her breath and stands stills.
“Just be honest.” she said, the glint in her eyes growing at the same time as the smile on her bruised lips. “Would you love me?”
“I don’t know” she whispered.
“You’re not going to say yes. I can see it in your eyes. Your fear is too engraved in you to consider saying yes.”
“Well, I guess since you think you know me so well…”
“One word is all I need. A yes or a no.”
“Dammit Denise. No. Okay? The answer is no.”
Denise smiled. “I was right all along.” she said and walked back to the living room. She heard the television being turned on again and the sounds of MTV music videos playing filled the house. She started humming along to a Lady Gaga song and snapped her fingers along with the beat. She seemed completely oblivious to her presence and she knew she was exaggerating to prove to her that she wasn’t upset by her answer. Fifteen minutes went by with no word from Denise and she felt the pressure in her chest swell into pounding.
She couldn’t show that she was affected. She was too proud to shed that layer of herself. So she clicked through to her music library on her laptop and started playing her own music, turning the volume high and singing along to the words.
She got up and went to the fridge and loaded her arms with jars of peanut butter, jelly, and whole grain bread. It had been a staple in her and Denise’s friendship to spend hours in her backyard, gossiping and eating way too many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She busied herself with making one and proceeded to go outside to the backyard, armed with her laptop and PB&J sandwich. There was a hammock right in the center of the yard that always afforded a perfect view of the indigo sky, which was always brightened just enough with the sparkles of the celestial accents. As she laid back against the hammock, the pounding in her chest was still beating steadily, and a wave of shame flowed through her inner core. She had never engaged in a conversation like that with Denise in the six years they’d known each other. She had never had a talk like that with anyone in her life. She didn’t understand what the meaning of the prying and the questions were for. What was the point of bringing out these emotions if they served no purpose to either of them? Her eyes began to sting with the inkling tears at the corners of her lids. The pounding in her heart gave way into a deep gasp and she felt her chest tighten. She held her breath in for ten seconds and let it out with an extended whoooosh, and with that release came the tears, briny and full, like silver waves , crashing down her cheeks as she heaved the liquid crests of a truth she didn’t want to uncover. She let her tears flow freely, savoring the euphoric daze that accompanied each sob. Then she got her laptop and uneaten sandwich and went back in to the house.
The house was still bright when she returned. Denise was still on the couch, her eyes closed and her breathing was steady. She headed for the bathroom to wash her face. There were imprints on her cheeks from the tears. She splashed the cool water from the faucet on to her face, closing her pores and her frustration at herself. She dried her face thoroughly with the chartreuse towels until her skin returned to its normal esteem.
“Denise? I’m going to go now” She walked in the living room in front of her resting body. “I’m sorry for everything that I said this evening. I didn’t realize until now, why I said it and why I felt it.”
“Why?” Denise asked.
She was surprised. Whether it was because of the sleep still nesting in her lungs or something else, the vulnerability in Denise’s voice was a sound that she had never heard before until this evening. It triggered the cove in her chest where the pounding had begun to open up again. She knew she had to be honest this time. “I’m in love with you.” she whispered.
“I don’t think you know the meaning of that word, yet.” she said. “But you can leave. Take some time to yourself. I will talk to you tomorrow.”
She picked up her purse, her laptop and her car keys and walked to the front door. She raised her hand to the light switch that controlled the living room lamps and heard Denise cough.
“Leave the light on” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“The light doesn’t bother me. I feel comfortable with it around me.”
She pauses once again before she turns the door knob. She gazes at the black sky, where the stars have surrendered their good nights to the clouds. She steps outside into the dark. The world delivers its wind, cold and with authority and it peels the layer from her skin and whisks it away. She waits in the night, waiting to feel the bareness of her armor removed. She waits for the violation to seep into her pores. She waits and she feels unfamiliar to herself. She feels open.
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